Escape
by SiriuslyGeorgia
Summary: Everyone needs their own form of escapism, but Chuck isn't sure how to react when he discovers that his best friend's girlfriend's escape includes her knees against bathroom tiles and fingers down her throat. Trigger warning: bulimia. Slightly AU.
1. Chapter 1

"You look nice, Serena."

The words were harmless, polite even. But when the words came out of Nate Archibald's mouth whilst he stood next to his girlfriend in her foyer, they were lethal weapons.

Ever oblivious, Nate didn't notice the way Blair's face screwed up for a second before she regained control, or the way Serena's eyes shone with hope.

Chuck noticed. He'd always felt like an outsider at these gatherings Blair insisted on hosting every week. ("We're fifteen now, we don't _play outside!_ ") Serena was her best friend, Nate was her boyfriend, but Chuck was just Nate's friend, dragged along to even out the numbers. His position, however humiliating, gave him ample opportunity to notice things the other three missed, things he may have been able to use for blackmail later.

Blair took Nate's arm and spun him around. "Dorota's bringing us lemonade," she said as she led them into the lounge. She followed the same routine every week, sometimes switching lemonade for cookies, but always grasping Nate's arm, and leaving Serena and Chuck trailing behind. Chuck glanced to his left and fought the urge to roll his eyes – Serena's attention was focused on the back of Nate's polo shirt, a faint blush on her cheeks.

Once they sat down – Nate and Blair occupying one sofa with their interlocked hands between them, and Chuck and Serena on the other, sitting as far apart as they could – Serena spoke. "You guys remember Georgina Sparks? From middle school?"

Blair made a noise of disgust. "She's a psycho."

"You barely ever talked to her, B," Serena said wearily. "Anyway, she's coming back to the city next week; we should all go out."

Chuck couldn't imagine anything worse, but Nate replied, "Sounds great, we should go –"

Blair stood up suddenly, cutting off Nate's words. Some colour had drained out of her cheeks. "I just need to run upstairs for a second." She smiled and dropped Nate's hand before she sped up the staircase.

Nate and Serena lapsed into a conversation about all the fun they could have in the city with Georgina Sparks – neither took much notice when Blair didn't return for fifteen minutes, nor when Chuck excused himself, smoothly delivering a lie about needing the bathroom.

He did end up in the bathroom, coincidentally, drawn there by the sound of a tap barely covering the sound of heaving. The door was shut, but not locked, as if she'd barely taken the time to ensure her privacy. He pushed the door open slowly, taking in the sight beyond. Before his eyes were drawn to the girl he'd come looking for, he saw the empty box of macaroons half-lying in the sink. The black of Blair's dress contrasted starkly to the while tile on which she knelt, one hand grasping the edge of the toilet bowl. He didn't want to think about where her other hand was, hidden from his view by her body.

For a moment, he was torn between making himself known and slipping away unseen. Then, he heard a whimper and Blair sunk back onto her calves.

"Waldorf," he said, forcing his voice to sound level, as if this was just another one of their encounters from running in the same social circle. He'd make a lewd comment and she'd scoff in disgust, and they'd both emerge unscathed.

She yelped in shock. The hand that had been on the toilet bowl reached up to her face – he presumed to wipe her tears. When she stood up to face him, her eyes were dry, but the tell-tale mascara stains remained. Her headband had been used to scrape her hair away from her face, a far cry from the dainty placement in her curls he had witnessed not long before.

Unsure of what to say now, he merely stared at her; confident he knew her well enough to predict she'd be the next to speak. He wasn't disappointed. She cleared her throat. "I don't know what you thought you saw, Bass," she told him firmly as she moved over to the sink. She pushed the empty macaroon box onto the floor nonchalantly. "But walking into someone's bathroom, _when the door is closed_ , is the work of a pervert."

"Thank you for the compliment," he drawled. "But don't try and distract me with your dirty talk."

She finished fixing her mascara in the mirror and turned around to face him. Wringing her hands, she fixed him with an icy glare. "Why did you follow me upstairs? Serena and Nate…"

"I think you can trust them enough not to start having making out as soon as our backs are turned." Her whole body tensed with his words, making him almost wish to take it back.

"Answer my question," she hissed, giving no vocal indication that his words had affected her at all. He had to give her credit; she still managed to shoot daggers at him with nothing more than her gaze, despite her obvious emotional turmoil.

He shrugged. "I wondered where you'd gone, and I didn't fancy hearing all about our apparent plans next week."

" _You_ wondered where I'd gone?" she asked quietly, the disappointment clear.

He wanted nothing more than to turn and run downstairs, out of the building if he could manage it. Instead, he reached behind Blair for the glass by the sink. Blair moved out of his way silently as he filled the glass with cold water. When he offered the beverage to her, she blinked dumbly before snatching it out of his grasp and downing it in seconds.

"Shouldn't you be glad it was just me who walked in on you?" Just Chuck, no-one special.

She refilled the glass, but made no further attempt to drink it; just held it in her hands. "If it had been Nate…" she laughed bitterly, "it would've shown he cared about me more than 'you look nice', 'let's hang out' Serena van der Woodsen." When she imitated Nate, her voice went up an octave, leaving Chuck wondering if Blair even cared about his best friend at all.

"He's your boyfriend, isn't he?" His voice sounded strange even to his own ears.

Blair raised the glass to her lips and drank. Finishing her second glass of water seemed to change something in her. "Right," she said, placing the glass back on the sink with a loud clunk. "He's my boyfriend; he chose me over her and I chose him over all the other boys at St. Jude's. He can look at Serena all he wants, as long as he doesn't touch her."

At some point during her externalised monologue, Chuck's heart had begun to ache. The feeling was foreign to him. He ignored it. "You're sure that's the right move?"

She was already halfway to the door. As she passed him, she nodded. "Of course. What you saw was just me being stupid. Serena doesn't matter." The words sounded were a mantra.

He sighed. There was no point arguing with Blair Waldorf when she'd made her mind up. She'd go running back to Nate and pretend like she didn't notice every look he sent in Serena's direction. She'd tell herself she was fine.

Just before she reached the door, he grabbed her wrist. She turned to eye him disdainfully. "What?"

He opened his mouth to speak before realising he didn't have anything to say. His mind was stuck on the image of her kneeling in front of the toilet; the image of a broken girl. She tried to yank her arm back, forcing the words out of his mouth. "Next time you're going to be stupid, give me a call."

"So you can take advantage? You're sick, Chuck." Although her words were cutting, he could tell her heart wasn't in it as her voice was soft and her fingers briefly squeezed his arm before she hurried downstairs, back to her perfect life – leaving everything imperfect in the bathroom.

When he returned to the lounge, Blair was tucked under Nate's arm, laughing slightly too hard to be genuine. He made his excuses and left within the hour.

* * *

There weren't a lot of things Chuck despised doing more than nothing, which is why he was almost out of the door when the phone in the apartment rung that night. His father wasn't back from work yet – if he was coming back at all – so Chuck strolled over to the phone mounted on the wall and answered with the intention of taking a message.

"Bass residence, Ch –"

He was cut off by the person on the other end of the line. "Chuck?" For a moment, Chuck was stunned into silence, unable to say anything. "You said to call if I was going to… be stupid." She sounded hesitant. "Is this a bad time? I'll go."

"No, no," he said quickly, grateful for the return of his voice. "I wasn't doing anything important."

"I hope that it's okay I called your apartment, I realised I don't have your cell phone number."

He imagined Blair scrolling through her phone contacts trying to find him, and then going through all of the effort to find the number for his apartment. The thought sent little tremors of electricity shooting down his spine. "Will you be at Nate's lacrosse game tomorrow?" He didn't wait for her reply, knowing that she'd be dutifully sat in the stands like always. "We can exchange numbers then."

"Yeah," she said. "Let's do that."

A silence fell over the line, leaving him wondering if she was regretting calling. But she wouldn't make all that effort to call him without being certain she wanted to speak to him; Blair didn't do things half-heartedly or for no reason. Maybe she just needed a prompt, given the private nature behind her reason for calling. "Are you okay?"

He heard her sigh. "I suppose so. I mean I haven't… you know… yet. I thought I was going to, but then I remembered what you said this afternoon, so here we are."

She didn't quite know what to say, he could tell, but he was glad that she'd thought of him before giving into her urge. "Is this about Nate? Serena?"

"You might think that my mind revolves around the two of them, but other things go on in the world."

Chuck twirled the cord of the phone around his finger as he leaned against the wall. He could see the door out of the corner of his eye, but boredom was no longer drawing him towards it. "You know I didn't mean it like that," he said. "Get to the point."

"My mother's new line debuts next week and she's going crazy." The hesitance still hadn't left her voice, and it was starting to grate on Chuck.

"And you couldn't talk to your boyfriend about it?" His tone was harsher than he'd intended; he wanted to reach into the phone and take his words back immediately.

She ignored the harshness behind his words – either she knew he didn't mean it, or the clarity on her end of the line was lacking. "I love Nate, but he wouldn't understand. He doesn't have demons, he doesn't need an escape."

Her words were so certain, making Chuck feel like she was under his skin, in his brain, poking at whatever she wanted. "What makes you so sure I do?"

"Please," she scoffed. "You're Chuck Bass."

He laughed loudly, unexpectedly, despite the irritated noise she made at his volume.

"I'm right then, aren't I?" she asked.

Almost against his will, his hand found his pocket and the badly-rolled joint nestled inside. It was a new habit – one he wasn't particularly proud of. "You're right," he admitted. He slid to the floor, with his legs out in front of him. "You don't have to do it, you know, to be in control." He would never admit it, but when he returned from Blair's hours before, he'd used his computer to search bulimia. The only reason he did it was because he was the only person who knew, and he didn't want to singlehandedly ruin Blair's life by saying the wrong thing. At least, that's what he was telling himself.

There was a vague rustling coming from her end, like she was rolling over on her bed. He wondered if she was lying on her front or back. "Sometimes I just snap," she told him, the hesitation in her voice gone. "It's like there's this pressure building, and sometimes it gets too much, and I snap because I'm weak. I eat and it doesn't help and I hate myself for it, so I puke it up and that just makes everything worse. But I'm powerless against – "

"Blair," he said loudly to get her attention through her tirade. She stopped talking. "You're not weak. You're strong, and the whole Upper East Side knows you're powerful."

He waited as Blair seemed to mull this over. Finally, she said, "I want to be powerful, but I see my boyfriend take one look at my best friend and it sends me to my knees in the bathroom." In her pause, he opened his mouth to speak. "And don't you dare suggest where else I could be on my knees."

"I wasn't going to," he lied.

"Yes, you were," she said with certainty. "The only normal thing about this conversation is that I can still rely on you for terrible sexual jokes."

He smiled; glad she wasn't in front of him to see it. "And what about your mom?"

"My mother is so strong. My father… leaves and she does nothing but come out with her best clothing range yet. I want to be like her, I want to just be able to forget, but I can't." He heard her deep intake of breath, and waited for the exhale. "Oh god, I'm so sorry. Just forget I ever said anything, you wouldn't understand anyway. Bye, Chuck."

"Wait!" he shouted, surprised at how much he wanted to continue their conversation.

"What?" she said. If he knew her at all, her cheeks were currently tinged pink.

Mentally, he grasped for something to say. Ridiculous chit-chat wouldn't keep her on the line. "What's your middle name?"

"Cornelia," she replied automatically. Her voice lowered suspiciously. "Why?"

"Blair Cornelia Waldorf." The name fell from his lips as he tested it. It was a regal sounding name, one meant for a princess – or the queen of the Upper East Side. "Not Blair Eleanor Waldorf."

"Yes, obviously not that. Get on with it." Her tone was neither hesitant nor vulnerable. This assertive voice belonged to the girl who ruled over the MET steps.

"Charles Bartholomew Bass." He supposed his name sounded regal, too. "Two thirds of my name is my father's. It's not just me who wants to be like him. Everyone else wants me to be like him. They expect it."

Blair didn't reply for a few seconds. When she did, her tone was incredulous. "You want to be like him?"

"Of course," Chuck replied immediately. "Bass Industries is worth billions."

She groaned; probably closed her eyes in exasperation, too. "Is that the only thing that matters?"

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "What else is there?"

"Happiness, loyalty, selflessness, generosity..."

"If you're just going to list Nate's qualities for the next hour," he drawled impatiently, "let me know so I can hang up."

Now _she_ was impatient. "Many people have those qualities, Chuck, Nate may just be the only good person you know."

It didn't escape his attention that she didn't include herself. "Your point?"

"Your father doesn't have those things, and it seems to me like he's a pretty terrible father to you too."

She was bold for saying that, especially to Chuck. He didn't disagree. In fact, she had piqued his curiosity. "Is this going somewhere, Waldorf?"

"You can aspire to be so much better than he is." She paused, deliberating her next words. "You can _be_ so much better."

"You sure about that?" he asked, letting the cocky, self-assuredness take over his voice.

He could practically hear her eyes roll. "Cut the crap. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't know it was true."

If she could see him, he would've smirked. Instead, he smiled to himself. "Where the hell did you get the idea that you're not powerful?"

She didn't say anything for so long that he wondered if she'd hung up. Finally, she broke the silence. "So you agree with what I said?" Her voice was soft.

"That my father is an awful man? Yeah, I got that years ago, thanks."

" _Chuck_ ," she scolded. "Drop the shield of sarcasm for one second and admit that you want to be better than he is."

He glanced over at the door to his father's study, with its door wide open and the desk inside unoccupied. Next to it, the door to his father's room was shut, but Chuck didn't need x-ray vision to know that no-one was inside. "Yes, fine, I do."

He took the 'harrumph' that came from her throat to mean 'finally'.

"But only if you agree that you're strong." He wasn't sure why it was so important for him to know what everyone else already knew, but he couldn't stop himself from making the request.

"I can be," she said after a long sigh.

"And powerful?" he prompted.

She wasted no time in her response. "Of course."

"So do you feel better?"

The line went quiet for a moment, as if she was actually thinking about it. Chuck admired her for that; she was going to tell him the truth whatever it was. "I think I do, actually."

"You sound surprised," he noted. He was surprised, too.

"When Chuck Bass offered to be my shoulder to cry on, I was dubious."

"And now?"

"Let's do it again sometime." It wasn't a request.

Usually, when she talked to him, he resented the never-ending orders, but this time he found he didn't mind. He thought to himself that he would take a thousand orders from Blair Waldorf if it meant he never had to see her purging again.

"Do I not get a say in that?" he tried, and failed, to sound annoyed.

"No. Just…" the hesitation was back in her voice. "Don't tell Nate, okay?"

"Don't worry; I wasn't going to tell Prince Charming that his princess isn't perfect." Was that _bitterness_ in his voice?

Blair didn't seem to notice the change in Chuck's voice. "I didn't mean about that, I know you'd never tell him that." Her confidence in him felt foreign. "I meant about this."

"This?" Of course, he knew what she was talking about – he needed her to say it.

"The phone calls," she clarified. "I mean, I know it's nothing, but I'd appreciate it if he didn't know."

He forced his voice to sound upbeat. "Sure, I won't tell him. Goodnight, Blair."

"Night, Chuck."

There was a click as she hung up. Chuck stayed sat on the floor for a while, listening to the faint hum of feedback from the phone. If this was nothing, then why did he feel anything but?


	2. Chapter 2

Georgina Sparks was the worst. Blair detested her heavy kohl-rimmed eyes, her perpetually bored-sounding voice, and the way she latched onto Serena like a leech. Most of all, Blair hated the fact that she was currently sat across from the devil herself. When Serena had suggested the three of them go out for dinner in her favourite restaurant, Blair had grudgingly agreed, but had regretted her decision as soon as Serena had gestured for Georgina to sit opposite Blair. To avoid associating herself with too much psycho, Blair had spent the last fifteen minutes studying the red silk curtains that draped the walls, until she could not listen to Serena lament about the unfairness of their English teacher any longer.

"Maybe Mr Johnson wouldn't have given you detention if you had actually done the essay on Pride and Prejudice," Blair interjected, glancing to her left at Serena, who smiled and shrugged slightly, as if to congratulate Blair on her fair statement.

Georgina placed her forearms on the mahogany table and leaned forward. From her position, Blair could see every individual mascara clump on Georgina's eyelashes. "She didn't do the dumb essay because she was out with me last night."

Faced with Georgina's smug smirk, Blair kept calm. "I know," she lied, picking up her glass of lemonade to concentrate on something other than the betrayal she felt. Her only consolation was that, since they'd come straight from school, the restaurant was almost empty so she couldn't possibly be trapped here for much longer.

The other girl raised a disbelieving eyebrow, but said nothing as the waitress arrived and placed their steaming dishes before them. From the corner of her eye, Blair could see Serena looking at her, but paid no attention to the blonde's attempts to catch her eye. Nor did she pay attention to Serena's leg knocking against hers under the table. If Serena didn't even want to inform Blair of her plans, Blair wouldn't acknowledge her. Instead, she placed her glass back on the table and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

Serena thanked the waitress with what Blair imagined to be her signature full-wattage grin. The waitress couldn't help but smile back as she told them to enjoy their meal. No wonder Georgina hung on Serena's every word, Blair thought as she picked up her knife and fork.

"This is delicious," Serena claimed as she cut another chunk of beef and lifted it up to her mouth.

Blair could feel Georgina's eyes on her and looked up from her chicken Caesar salad. Despite the smile on her face and the soft sigh she let out, Georgina's eyes were full of malice. "I could finish this whole plate, and then some," she said. She was agreeing with Serena, but her eyes never left Blair. "Although, you'd better not, Blair. Have you gained weight recently?"

Blair barely heard Serena's sharp gasp through the buzzing in her ears. "She has _not_ gained weight – she looks amazing as usual."

Years of perfecting her social status kept Blair from pushing away from the table or bursting into tears right there. Never let them see you weak, and definitely do not let them see you cry. She had basically written those rules herself, and she wasn't about to let some evil freak ruin everything she'd worked for. "I don't recall seeing you since middle school. I've been through puberty since then, and apparently you haven't."

Georgina scowled as Blair waved her fork in the direction of Georgina's chest.

"That's enough," Serena said firmly. "If you two can't get along, just try and not bite each other's heads off."

Apparently Blair's comeback had negated any sympathy Serena had felt towards her. Blair stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork, then a piece of lettuce and half a tomato, and shoved the whole thing in her mouth, chewing quickly.

"Well, I was just going to invite Blair out with us tonight, but I am rather frightened she might bite my head off so if you don't mind…" Georgina took a sip of her coffee and let Blair fill in the gap herself.

Before Serena could interject, Blair swallowed her food. She didn't care much for any of the presumably illegal activities a night out with Georgina Sparks entailed. "No worries, just as long as you don't mind missing the party my mother's hosting tomorrow night for her new line. You'll be there, won't you, Serena?"

Blair finally looked at Serena, the opportunity to get one-up on Georgina outweighing her hurt. Serena shot Blair a cold look but nodded regardless. "Of course. I still don't have a date though."

"Give any boy at St Jude's a call," Blair said, rolling her eyes. "Or any boy, ever, really."

"Just not Nate Archibald." Georgina's voice had shed the bored tone for a second and she sounded extremely pleased with herself.

Refocusing her concentration on her food, Blair forced a laugh. She was good at that. "Obviously."

"Yeah, as if."

"So where are you two going tonight?" Blair asked. She was glad when Georgina took the opportunity to give a detailed description of everything Blair would be missing out on.

Blair paid little attention to Georgina's spiel as she finished her meal, leaving the plate scraped clean. Her best friend seemed as uncomfortable as she was, though from the mention of Nate or from Georgina's emphasis on Blair's misfortune, she wasn't sure. It was excruciating watching Georgina pick her way through her meal before Serena could request the bill.

When they finally emerged onto the sidewalk, Blair inhaled deeply, appreciating the fresh air.

"We were going to go and get outfits for tonight." Blair barely heard Serena over the sound of the busy street. "Do you want to come and buy something for tomorrow?"

Blair shook her head. "No, thank you," she said curtly. "We're wearing my mother's designs, remember?"

Before Serena could reply, Georgia interrupted. "Bye, then," she said loudly, already linking her arm with Serena's and leading them both away.

Serena looked back over her shoulder. "I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Have a good evening," Blair called, somewhat sarcastically, before turning and hurrying down the street.

 _Have you gained weight recently?_

She'd memorised the location of all the most hygienic public restroom in the Upper East Side a long time ago, so it didn't take long before she was bolting the door of a stall behind her and slumping in front of a toilet.

 _Have you gained weight recently?_

As she lifted her bag over her shoulder and put it on the floor next to her, she pulled her cell phone out of the front pocket. She scrolled through her contacts until Chuck's name was lit up beneath her finger.

 _Have you gained weight recently?_

Hands shaking, she flung her phone on top of her bag. In a well-practised routine, she scraped her hair back using her headband (today's headband was dotted with rhinestones), leaned over the toilet bowl and raised her fingers to her mouth, all the while praying that no-one would enter the restroom. She'd had encounters before, but mostly people left her to it. This was New York, after all. The few times people shouted through the door to ask if she was okay, she claimed food poisoning and they all left shortly after. No-one wanted to be burdened by the girl with bulimia.

Her throat burned, but the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the shame she felt at Georgina's words. One part of her, the realistic part that paid attention to the scales, knew she hadn't gained weight in the past few months, but a different part of her relished the feeling of her stomach emptying until nothing remained.

Fifteen minutes later, she was back in the stall having washed her hands, leaning against the door. She gave herself a minute to stare disdainfully at the toilet before reaching in her bag for a water bottle and a packet of mints. After she popped a few in her mouth, she felt more like herself. More relaxed than she'd been in the restaurant. The guilt she felt nearly outweighed the relief, but not quite.

She leaned down and picked up her phone. Once again, her finger hovered over Chuck's name, but once again she couldn't press the call button. Instead, she scrolled further down before lifting the phone to her ear.

"Blair?" Nate's voice rang in her ear.

Blair revelled in the familiarity of his voice, of the Blair that he knew. "How are you?"

"I'm great," came his reply. "Just finishing up lacrosse practice. Jacob so nearly got me in the face with his stick, but I dodged it."

She found herself holding in a laugh, her mind immediately forming some comment Chuck would make about Jacob's stick. "I'm glad you had a good time," she said quietly, her head falling backwards against the door.

"What's up?"

"Nothing," she said immediately, and then sighed. "I'm fine, I just have to go."

There was a pause in which she could hear Nate's breathing. "Are you sure?"

She wasn't sure if she was fine, wasn't sure what she was doing, no, but she knew that Nate wasn't what she needed right now. "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow – pick me up at seven?"

"Sure," he agreed. "Love you."

Her smile was broad. "Love you too, Nate, bye."

After she hung up the phone, she held it to her chest for a while, savouring the seven letters Nate had said to her. When she said it back, she really had meant it. That didn't stop her from dialling another number.

"Waldorf." In the four phone conversations they'd had in the past week since their first, Blair had learned Chuck liked to answer the phone this way: certain with no nonsense. "How many traumas have you had in the past two hours since the final bell?"

The smile dropped from Blair's face. She closed her eyes to avoid looking at the toilet in front of her. "A fair few."

She heard his breathy laugh. "Let me guess: many of them bearing the face of our newly returned Georgina Sparks."

A laugh tried to fall from her lips, but it was replaced with something that sounded like a sob.

"Tell me," he requested – demanded was probably more appropriate.

She rubbed at her temple with her free hand. Telling Chuck would be like admitting failure. For a week, she hadn't given in to her urges, but Georgina Sparks had driven her to her knees – in a public restroom, of all places, whilst Georgina and Serena gallivanted around Blair's favourite stores. "No."

Chuck made a frustrated sound. "Where are you?"

She debated not telling him, but everyone knew the Bass limos were to die for. He didn't say anything when she mentioned the restroom, just told her to be outside in five minutes.

As soon as the limo pulled up, she climbed in the back without giving the driver a chance to open the door for her, which was a first. She crossed her legs and deposited her bag on the floor.

"Now are you going to tell me?" Chuck asked by way of greeting as the vehicle began to move. He was slouched in his seat, still wearing his school uniform, but without the tie and with several buttons on his shirt undone.

Blair shook her head stubbornly.

"It doesn't take a genius." He gestured behind them to the street they'd just turned away from. Blair felt her cheeks flame. "Why'd you do it?"

His voice wasn't accusatory in the slightest. He sounded merely curious, _caring_ almost, which is why Blair opened her mouth. No-one else had ever asked her why, no-one else had ever known. No-one else had ever tried to peer into the darkest part of her – and Chuck didn't even seem phased. "She's taking Serena away from me." Blair stared at her hands in her lap. "Before you say anything," she added quickly, "I know how pathetic this sounds, but it's always been me and Serena at the top, and everyone else seemed insignificant."

She looked over at him, aware of how conceited her words were (even if they were true). His whole body was turned towards her as he leaned against the door. He nodded, spurring her on.

Blair sighed. "I used to think that Serena and I were alike, but now I think she's more like Georgina."

"And what are you like?" Chuck asked, using that curious tone again.

"You know…" She waved a hand in the air, searching for the right words. "A good girl," she eventually said. "Obviously, Serena doesn't follow the rules as closely as I do, but I always thought she was like me at her core."

After a second of silence, Chuck shook his head. "Blair…" he began, but then cut himself off. He cleared his throat. "And Georgina's the opposite."

"She fits Serena better than I do," Blair admitted, watching the shop-fronts blur past outside the window.

"Didn't you ever hear that opposites attract?"

Blair didn't look around to see the expression on his face.

"You and Serena work," he continued. "There's nothing more to it."

That was true, she knew. The two of them had been best friends since before they could walk. They'd had their disagreements, but she loved Serena like a sister, and those kinds of bonds can't be broken by random intruders.

"That wasn't all," Blair found herself saying. "If it was just about Serena, I think I could've held myself together. I know Serena, I believe in Serena."

"Are you going to make me beg for it?" He inquired. "That's not my usual style."

Blair flung her hand behind her blindly until she hit him in the arm. "She asked me if I'd gained weight."

His response was instant, his tone unreadable. "When was the last time she saw you?"

Even though that was exactly Blair's response an hour ago, she said, "That's not the point."

She couldn't explain to him the revulsion she had felt at her own body, the embarrassment of living in her own skin, the shame of having someone else point out her deepest insecurities.

"That's _exactly_ the point," he insisted. "She doesn't know what she's talking about, and she said that just to hurt you."

The car pulled up outside Blair's building, but she didn't reach for the door handle. Instead she stared at the ornate glass doors through the window, looking through her own reflection.

"I know," she whispered. "I know all of that, but it doesn't matter. "

"Will you just look at me already?" he asked, exasperated.

Fiddling with her tie, she turned her head. He hadn't changed his position, but his eyes were wider than when she'd last looked at him.

"I know you think you have to be this good girl all of the time, but it doesn't matter if you slip up occasionally. Don't beat yourself up for giving in. Just don't let Georgina make you do it again."

Blair's hand stilled at her throat. She raised her eyebrows. "You're pretty good at this… whatever it is, Bass."

He leaned forward. Her breath hitched. He reached over her and pulled the door handle. "I'm just saying what's obvious to everyone except you," he said as he returned to his seat.

She uncrossed her legs and placed one foot on the sidewalk, pushing the door open further with her leg as she did so. As she looked back at him to smile in farewell, an idea came to her. "You're taking Serena to my mother's event tomorrow night," she told him as she lifted herself out of the car.

"I don't believe I am, and I don't believe I was invited."

Reaching in the car to retrieve her bag, she glared at him. "I just invited you, on the condition that you take Serena, of course."

She closed the door behind her before he could argue.

* * *

Standing in front of her full-length mirror, Blair scrutinised herself. She didn't need to try and convince herself that the dress was beautiful – her mother didn't design anything that didn't scream elegance. This particular dress, tailor-made to fit Blair for the occasion, was a made of velvet in a deep purple colour with a tight-fitting bodice which flared out at the waist and ended at her ankles. The neckline was conservative, although the back was cut rather low in a V shape. Long sleeves ended in black cuffs, which matched the thick belt around her waist.

Her wavy hair was gathered around the front of her shoulders, so photographers at the event would be able to marvel over the reverse neckline. Her heels, whilst still regal, were plain back to ensure they didn't steal any of the attention away from the original Waldorf, worn by the Waldorf heir. Everything about Blair's outfit was planned by her mother, right down to the headband. The headband was Blair's favourite part of the outfit; it was coated in velvet that she hadn't been able to resist running her fingers over every so often since she'd put it on. As beautiful as the dress was, something was wrong about the dress, or Blair in the dress.

She turned to get a view of her body sideways in the mirror. Her nose scrunched before she sucked in her stomach. There, that was better. And right on time too, as she heard the sound of the elevator through her open door.

Dorota's voice drifted up the stairs. "Mr Nate, you look very fancy!"

Nate's laugh warmed Blair's heart. "I don't think I'd be allowed in the door otherwise."

"Miss Eleanor can be very –"

At the mention of her mother, Blair had teetered out of her room as fast as her heels would allow. "Dorota!" she called. "Would you fetch my coat?"

Blair waited for Dorota to disappear into the back of the apartment before she began her descent down the stairs. Over the banister, she could see Nate standing close to the foot of the stairs. Dorota's exclamation had been correct; his classic black suit fit him perfectly, and the top button on his white shirt was done up – a far cry from the rebelliously casual way he wore his school uniform. As great as all that was, what really caused Blair's breath to catch in her throat was the sight of his tie. It was made of purple velvet.

His grin was brilliantly wide when she stepped into his full view. "You look absolutely gorgeous."

She kept her eyes trained on the stairs as she descended the last few steps, worried her happiness would turn into deliriousness if she didn't concentrate on her movements rather than the way his eyes wandered over her. When her feet landed on marble, she felt his finger under her chin and allowed him to lift her head up. With her heels adding inches to her height, she didn't have to tilt her head that much to meet his lips. He kissed her gently, pulling away before she had the chance to wrap her arms around him.

"I love your tie," she told him, reaching out to run her finger down the material. "Very tasteful."

His hand captured hers and for a moment their hands floated between them, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of her hand. "Your mom sent it to me with clear instructions that I had to wear it tonight or I wasn't to go anywhere near her daughter."

Blair couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. "She did?"

Nate chuckled. "Don't worry; I'm wearing it, aren't I?"

At that moment, Dorota hurried in carrying Blair's black coat, leaving Blair no time to mull over the disappointment that had reared its head within her. Nate took the coat from Dorota and helped Blair into it, and then they were gone.

* * *

Serena was in her element at events like these, and it had always left Blair envious. Blair, who had to rethink her every move before she made it, remember to smile whenever anyone of importance could see her (which was always), and ensure her stomach was permanently sucked in. Effortlessly, Serena shone, while Blair struggled to even flicker.

Maybe Serena had had fun with Georgina the night before, but she also hadn't questioned letting Chuck be her date when Blair had told her that afternoon. And now, like a dutiful best friend, she was carting Chuck around the hall, loudly expressing her love for the collection. Her volume was on behalf of Blair, who had been told by her mother to publicise the designs as much as possible, but it was clear Serena's words were genuine. How could they not be? Eleanor Waldorf had teamed thigh slits with high necks, and open backs with low hemlines to create a line which pushed the boundaries whilst remaining regal. The garments, Blair thought, mirrored her mother in a way that she never could.

"You okay, B?" Serena asked as she dragged Chuck over to where Blair and Nate were standing at the side of the room, fresh from fawning over the clothing line to a herd of reporters.

Blair forced a smile back onto her face, which wasn't too hard now that the reporters had been replaced with Serena. "Of course," she said quickly before adding, "I haven't had chance to tell you how incredible you look."

It was true. Upon her arrival, Blair had been whisked off along with Nate by her mother's assistant and she hadn't spoken to Serena. From across the room, though, she'd appraised Serena's outfit as the two shared the occasional sly grin. Her friend had been gifted with another Waldorf original, a short sky blue chiffon number which complimented her hair and made her eyes pop. Chuck's tie didn't match her dress, but the shirt under his white suit jacket was the same shade of blue. Without asking, Blair knew that her mother hadn't provided Chuck's shirt; Eleanor was a strong believer in the traditional black-tie ensemble. His white bow tie was so _Chuck_ that it was almost endearing – but Blair hadn't failed to notice Chuck hadn't looked at her all night.

"You look fabulous too," gushed Serena as she stepped close to Blair for a hug. Blair exhaled deeply, comforted by how familiar the gesture was.

"As do you, Nate," she continued once she'd released Blair and smoothed down her dress.

Chuck's eyes cut to Blair as soon as the words left Serena's mouth, as if he was afraid she'd break down or start screaming on the spot, making Blair feel horrendously guilty over the way her stomach had dropped with the words. Serena was just being polite. It was true, what she'd said to Chuck the day before: she believed in Serena. Blair had always known her aversion to Nate and Serena spending any time together stemmed from her own insecurities, but for Chuck to look at her in that way, to have someone else see right through her…

"I'm going to get some air," she blurted. The three of them looked at her. Serena and Nate looked concerned, Chuck looked validated. She glared at Chuck before kissing Nate on the cheek. Then, she turned around and weaved her way through throngs of people and mannequins until she reached the door that led onto the balcony.

The night was unseasonably cold, making Blair think mournfully about the coat she'd left in the cloakroom, but the frigid air helped to clear her head and made sure the balcony was otherwise unoccupied. She moved to the edge of the balcony and placed her hands on the stone ledge separating her from the drop, looking out over Manhattan. She sighed. Why did it take a look from Chuck Bass for her to realise Nate and Serena were just friends? Maybe it because she'd never had a proper friend of the opposite gender before, but now that was how she was beginning to see Chuck. How she felt about Chuck must have been how Serena felt about Nate.

Blair's face began to feel normal again after the obscene amount of smiling she'd done in the past hour, but even though she was only steps from the event, the chatter of the party barely reached her, so she didn't want to return just yet. She'd allow herself a few more moments of peace before surrendering herself to being the perfect daughter for the rest of the night.

"Are you not going to tell me I look fabulous too?"

Blair jumped and spun around, lifting a hand to her heart. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" she berated.

Chuck stood before her, hands clasped in front of him, illuminated by the lights from the building behind him. "The last time I checked, walking normally is not classed as sneaking."

As she rolled her eyes, she removed her hand from over her heart, reaching up to her headband instead to feel the soft material. Fabrics were her mother's thing, but Blair loved the way velvet felt completely different depending on how you handled it.

"Why'd you bolt so quickly?" he asked, affixing her with his eyes, not bothered by her lack of answer to his previous question.

Blair found herself smiling. "Because I realised that there's nothing to worry about with Serena and Nate. They both love me, they're friends, but that's it. I was overreacting about the whole thing." Saying it aloud only confirmed what Blair was convinced was the truth.

Wringing his hands, Chuck raised an eyebrow. "Overreacting by forcing me to bring Serena tonight to keep her away from Nate?" His voice was low, accusatory. Hurt, even.

She couldn't tear her gaze away from his, even though his glare was making her feel slightly unsteady. Her hands reached behind her and planted firmly on the stone there. "That's not why I asked," she said softly.

"Is it not?"

Finally, she was able to look away. She focused on the scene behind him. Over his left shoulder, she thought she could see the back of Serena's dress as she stood talking to an older woman. "I asked because we're friends."

He took a step closer. She moved backwards a step so she hit the barrier. The open back of her dress allowed her to feel the rough stone directly on her skin, causing her to shiver. She avoided his eyes still, although she could feel his gaze on her.

"You don't see us as friends," he told her with confidence. "You see me as someone you can use to manipulate your _real friends_ , and someone to cast all your problems onto so they don't see who you really are."

She inhaled sharply. As she pushed past him to enter the party, she told herself his words hurt because he had such a low opinion of her – not because his words held a glimmer of truth.

When she re-entered the party, it was easy to locate Serena and Nate, as they were at the front of a crowd that had gathered in front of the small stage that had been erected. Blair joined them, easily squeezing in between them and grasping Nate's hand with her own. He squeezed her hand, and she returned the gesture before nodding in response to Serena's questioning glance.

"Attention everybody," Eleanor Waldorf called as she stepped onto the stage. The room went silent. It was the first look Blair had gotten of her mother all night. The white floor length gown the older woman was wearing had a scooped neckline that was acceptable for a fashion designer, but Blair wasn't sure it was acceptable for a mother. Blair braced herself for the same old speech hosts always gave, rehearsed and regurgitated from the last person who hosted an event. "I am so grateful and honoured that you are all here tonight in celebration of Waldorf Designs' new range. I'm sure everyone is aware of the struggles I have overcome to bring you everything you see here tonight, and there have been times where I've wanted to bury my head in the sand and when everything seemed doomed, but those moments have only led to me standing here today, facing what I can only describe as my best work to date."

The speech was obviously rehearsed, but not so much regurgitated, thought Blair as the crowd erupted in applause. Her mother dabbed at her eyes before stepping off the stage. Blair's eyes followed the movement of the handkerchief. Had her mother just expressed weakness in front of everyone? No, she'd _embraced_ weakness. Blair stood, dumbfounded, as the crowd dispersed.

"I've always admired her," Serena sighed, moving so that she stood facing Nate and Blair. "I don't think I could ever admit to struggling like that."

Chuck appeared at Serena's side, causing another wave of guilt inside Blair. "It paid off though." He gestured around them. The party was noticeably louder than it had been before Eleanor's speech, and someone had opened a bottle, or ten, of champagne.

As a waiter bustled past them, Nate held up his free hand. He passed a glass of champagne to Blair, and then helped himself to one. Chuck picked up one in each hand, and offered one to Serena, who accepted it eagerly.

"To the Waldorf's," Nate said, lifting up his glass.

They all touched their glasses together. Blair glanced at Chuck as she lifted hers, only to find he was looking at her, too.

Blair offered Chuck a slight smile, hoping to convey the apology she couldn't quite say. "Chuck, you are looking fabulous tonight."

* * *

 **A/N: So originally this was supposed to be a oneshot but I felt like continuing it, so here it is! The plan is for a total of five chapters. I'm not sure the title 'Escape' fits that well beyond the first chapter, but I'm going to keep it unless I have a better idea, so feel free to leave any title ideas in a review. If you enjoyed this make sure you follow the story. xoxo**


	3. Chapter 3

A knock on his bedroom door awoke Chuck.

"School, Mr Bass," someone called from the other side. He didn't recognise the voice, though he knew it belonged to a member of staff tasked with ensuring he got to school on time, so his father didn't have to. The whole charade infuriated him.

"Thank you," he replied groggily, as he did every morning. When he was younger, he used to shout through the door that he didn't want someone to be forced to take over the role his father was supposed to do naturally. Once when he was seven, he'd refused to go to school unless his father escorted him like he'd seen everyone else's parents do. He never made that mistake again.

Now, he swung his legs out of bed and ambled in to the kitchen slash dining room slash living room where a cooked breakfast awaited him. Chuck was never sure if the person who woke him was the same person who prepared his food, but he knew that they were always gone before he entered the expanse of their suite. The open-plan design was supposed to look modern, only the best for the Bass', though to Chuck it looked empty.

He was halfway through his eggs when the door to his father's room opened and the man himself emerged, making a beeline for the door. Chuck watched his retreating figure; clad in a suit that looked identical to the one he'd worn yesterday, and all of the other days before that. Halfway to the door, his father stopped and spun on his heel, briefcase swinging.

"We're expected to attend the Sheppard wedding next week," Bart informed his son plainly.

Chuck nodded, locking eyes with his father. He opened his mouth to say he'd already been informed by Margaret at the front desk, but his father spoke again. "I'm counting on you to not be an embarrassment. The Bass name has an outstanding reputation that I expect you to uphold."

* * *

Nate exhaled a cloud of sickly sweet smoke. "He actually said that?"

Chuck accepted the joint when Nate held it out for him. They were stood shoulder-to-shoulder, leaning against the back wall of the St Jude science block. He brought the joint to his mouth. He'd only had about three drags so far, but he could already feel some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Right before he walked out the door. It's like he's waiting for me to screw up so he can finally get rid of me."

"He's not waiting." Nate threw his arms out in front of him as if he was about to make a profound announcement. Chuck eyed him wearily, wondering how quickly marihuana entered the bloodstream. "He's just preparing for the inevitable."

Chuck narrowed his eyes at his best friend, and then looked away, focusing on the patch of grass that lay before them. The school thought that shoving a small green space at the back of the grounds – which no-one ever visited, except those willing to risk expulsion – was enough to get the students to appreciate nature. Which was basically what Chuck was doing. He brought the joint to his lips again, hoping to block out what Nate had just said.

Then, Nate started laughing. Loud, raucous laughter that made Chuck hope for a second that a teacher inside couldn't hear. A laughter that Chuck couldn't help but mimic, until they were both bent at the waist, gasping for breath. Even though he wasn't sure why he was laughing, it felt good. It had been a long time since he'd laughed like this, and even in his drug-induced haze, he appreciated it.

"I was joking," Nate assured Chuck after they'd both recovered.

Chuck shrugged, feeling lighter after the laughter. "It's probably true."

"What a dick," Nate proclaimed. He shook his head when Chuck extended his arm. "Better not; I'm always scared Blair's gonna smell it on me."

Chuck rolled his eyes and took another drag. "I doubt Waldorf even knows what cannabis smells like." No, her escape came in other forms.

Nate chuckled shortly. "Speaking of Blair, we had the weirdest conversation the other day. It was like she couldn't wait to get off the phone."

On one hand, Chuck knew that the pair of them embodied the worst clichés, smoking behind their private school at lunchtime whilst sharing rich-boy problems, but on the other hand… "What happened?"

Nate ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the top. "She called me out of nowhere, asked about practice and then she practically hung up on me. Said she was fine, though." He didn't seem worried, but Chuck could have easily pinpointed another reason for his calm.

Before answering, Chuck stubbed the joint out on the wall and let it drop to the ground, not bothering to conceal it. "When was this?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

"Uh, a few days ago?" Nate rescued his phone from his pocket and tapped at the keypad. "Friday," he confirmed a few seconds later, just as the bell rang. "I can't be late to history again, see you after school, yeah?"

"Sure," Chuck replied, but his mind was elsewhere. Namely, his mind was on Blair, and the phone call they'd also had on Friday, when she'd asked for his help. When she'd asked for his help, not Nate's.

* * *

Georgina Sparks and Blair Waldorf were both pale, brunette, sharp-edged bitches. They were alike in many ways, including their shared possessiveness over a certain blonde, but there was one thing that Blair was that Georgina could never be: Blair Waldorf.

And that, Chuck thought as he watched them sit either side of Serena, made all the difference.

"Harry Winston is clearly the better choice," Blair was saying, although in response to what, Chuck wasn't so sure. He'd zoned out a while ago.

They – Chuck, Nate, Blair, Serena and Georgina – were crowded into a circular booth in a bar which came highly recommended by Georgina. Personally, Chuck couldn't see the appeal. It was more trashy than classy, with wooded flooring that had stuck to the bottom of Chuck's shoes and a distinct smell of burning rubber. Georgina, like Chuck, was sat on the outside of the booth but her face bared no hint that she was annoyed by not being the centre of attention. In fact, she looked highly pleased.

"You're so wrong, Blair," stated Georgina as she stood up from the booth. Smoothing down her black mini-dress, she lifted half of her mouth up in what Chuck supposed was a gloating grin. "I'll go and get us some more drinks. Everyone wants soda again, right?"

"No ice," said Blair coldly.

"Of course," replied Georgina before she sauntered towards the bar.

As soon as Georgina was out of earshot, Blair slammed one of her hands on the table – the one that wasn't holding Nate's. "She's up to something."

"You're beyond paranoid, B." Serena took the words right out of Chuck's mouth, but he did nothing.

"I'm beyond right," huffed Blair as she slumped back in her seat and crossed her arms. Nate put his arm around her, causing her to nestle into his side.

Chuck looked away just in time to see Georgina flounce away from the bar. A waiter was hot on her heels, carrying a tray laden with tall glasses filled with a clear beverage.

"No ice?" the waiter asked when he reached their table. From this close, Chuck could see the stains in the waiter's shirt. His nose wrinkled in disgust.

One polished-red nail pointed in Blair's direction. Georgina's grin was feral as she slid into her seat. "That's hers."

Chuck couldn't see Blair around Nate, but he guessed her eyebrows quirked upwards due to the surprise lacing her voice. "You got me no ice?"

Apparently, Blair had not been watching Georgina's expression.

Georgina lifted her palms in the air for a moment and shrugged. "Of course I did."

Blair was silent as she picked up her glass and watched the waiter return to the bar. Chuck wasn't sure if she was placated or suspicious; when he picked up his own glass and took a sip he realised she would've been right to be suspicious.

"Georgina?" Blair asked, her voice coated with sugar.

Everyone else had now tasted their drinks. Serena was fixated on her glass as Nate tried to pull Blair back into his side, but it was no use. The teenage queen of the Upper East Side was sat with her back rigid.

Georgina met Blair's eyes. However much he disliked the girl, Chuck had to respect how she faced Blair when others would have cowered. "Mmm?"

"Why," continued Blair, still in that sweet tone which fooled none of them, "is there vodka in my drink?"

Leaning forward with her elbows on the table, Georgina grinned as she dipped her pinkie finger into her own drink and brought it up to her lips. "Just a little treat for everyone."

Chuck didn't mind the vodka – he could even do with some if he was going home to face his father sometime soon, but he'd rather his mind-altering substances were ingested willingly. He opened his mouth to put Georgina back in her place.

Before any words could leave Chuck's mouth, Nate pushed both his and Blair's glasses forward. Some of the liquid sloshed onto the table, joining the sticky patches already on the surface. "Thanks, but no thanks," he said firmly, leaning back into the booth and crossing his arms, giving Chuck a full view of the table.

He raised an eyebrow as Serena lifted her glass and took a long sip, her eyes not focusing on anyone around the table. _Georgina_ hadn't even emptied her glass as much as Serena had. Although, he supposed, Georgina was too busy tormenting Blair to drink. Serena was merely trying to wash away the awkwardness – Chuck knew the feeling.

"Too scared, Blair?" Georgina trailed a finger around the rim of her glass as she administered her challenge.

Supressing a groan, Chuck watched Blair stretch her arm out and within seconds the glass was at her lips, tipping liquid into her mouth. Georgina's grin stretched wide. This was what she wanted, everyone could see that, even Blair had to have realised, but it would have looked worse for Blair to admit defeat. They were all calculating, as always. Blair's expression was even planned to show no response to the alcohol, though Chuck knew her throat must be burning. Even though he wanted to denigrate Blair for giving in, he admired her refusal to be beaten.

"Scared of what?" Blair asked slyly after she licked her lips.

Serena's glass hit the table with a thunk. They all looked at her. Finally, Serena had locked her eyes on Blair. "You didn't have to do that," she said, sounding exasperated, before she slid her angry gaze to Georgina. "Stop it."

Georgina leaned back into her chair, clutching her drink. It seemed her work was done. Her voice was a trill of innocence. "Stop what?"

"You know exactly –" Serena started before she was cut off by the simultaneous buzz of five cell phones.

Digging into his pocket, Chuck located his cell phone and pulled it out, flipping it open as he did so. When he saw the message, he groaned. "Didn't anybody ever tell Blair Waldorf underage drinking is frowned upon?" Chuck read aloud, disdain coating his voice. "Let's hope no-one tells Constance."

"X-O-X-O, Gossip Girl," Blair finished. The silence that followed was short but potent, punctuated by Blair getting to her feet, her thighs pressing against the edge of the table. She looked expectantly at Nate. "I'm leaving."

"It's just Gossip Girl," Nate reasoned, but he stood up anyway. "Hardly anyone reads that site."

Georgina snorted. " _Au contraire,_ Nate. You think it's only the five of us subscribed to her alerts?"

Despite Nate nudging Chuck with his shin, Chuck didn't stand. Instead, he craned his neck to look around Nate at Blair. "Don't let her chase you out."

"Don't leave, Blair." Serena pleaded. "Chuck's right." Her voice took on a harsher tone. "Georgina shouldn't have put alcohol in your drinks without asking, but don't let it ruin your night."

"Chuck Bass, if you don't move right now I'll push you in front of a taxi," threatened Blair, turning her back fully on Serena.

Chuck did as he was told. He'd been in the middle of too many Blair Waldorf attacks to want one directed at him. Besides, he'd been sat there long enough, trying not to touch much furniture, and wanted nothing more than a joint between his fingers. He could sense a habit forming, and as long as he had to suffer through World War Georgina, he couldn't see himself attempting to break it.

As she stepped out of the booth, Blair smoothed down her dress. It was a yellow shift dress – he wasn't sure how the hell he knew what a shift dress was; he blamed the Constance girls that fawned whenever his last name was mentioned – which made her look even more out of place against the shabby black leather of the booth. But one thing about Blair Waldorf was that she looked like she belonged anywhere. "For the record," she began calmly. "I'm not running away; I'm just not dumb enough to want to jeopardise my future for a ridiculous drink."

Nate followed Blair when she sashayed past Chuck. "You coming, man?"

He looked back at the booth, where Georgina sat with an annoyingly huge smirk next to Serena whose mouth was set in a grim line. "Get me out of here."

In the car, Nate sat between Chuck and Blair. Her arm was around his shoulders; one of her nails accidentally grazing Chuck's arm. Chuck thought of the secret he knew about those fingers and sighed. She was all over Nate, yet she reserved her deepest secrets for him.

"I don't understand why she hates me so much," Blair lamented, oblivious to Chuck's sigh. "Serena's _miiiine_."

 _How had the vodka already hit her system?_ Chuck thought, not listening to Nate's reply. He was too focused on the way Blair was draping herself over Nate, even more than usual. He'd never believed the phrase that drunk actions were what people wished they could do sober – he'd always thought that drunk brains made terrible decisions. But now, as Nate's low chuckle filled the back of the car, he began to doubt himself. All the signals he'd picked up from Blair ever since that day in the bathroom… Had he been deluding himself? If Nate really was who Blair wanted, he'd have to leave her alone.

Blair's voice brought Chuck's thoughts back to the backseat. "What do you think, Chuck?"

"About what?" His voice came out sharper than he intended.

Nate turned his head to glare at Chuck. "What's up with you?"

Blair's fingers tightened on Nate's shoulder, causing the small point of contact between her pinkie and his jacket to disappear. She giggled. "Chuck's just mad because he didn't find his escape in Georgina's spiked drink."

"Did she put extra vodka in yours?" Nate questioned seriously, not understanding the meaning behind Blair's words that sent Chuck's heart skittering.

* * *

After lighting up near the back entrance of the hotel, Chuck found himself draped over his bed, watching the clock tick past eleven. He'd learned, through texting Nate, that Blair had sobered up pretty quickly after he'd fled the vehicle, but hadn't stopped ranting about Georgina until she'd left the car. Now he was out of Blair's range, Chuck's mind had also cleared. He'd convinced himself that his previous thoughts were nonsensical. Of course he didn't have feelings for Blair. He didn't need to stay away from her because he liked her. He needed to stay away from her because she was using him to unleash her problems.

Not that he minded.

He didn't mind, but he didn't pick up the first time she called. Blair wasn't one to keep trying after feeling rejected, so when her name flashed on his cell a second time, he snatched the device, ready to tell her to get a psychiatrist already.

"Serena's in trouble," she told him immediately, before he could get a word in edgeways. "She went out with Georgina and I can't get in touch with her. I need your help."

Exhaling slowly, Chuck raised his eyes to the ceiling. He was really in for it now. "Why me?"

"If there's anyone who can find a drunk, underage girl in Manhattan, it's Chuck Bass."

He didn't think her confident assumption was quite true, but he knew better than to disappoint Blair Waldorf. "Your car or mine?"

"Who says I can't be worried about my best friend in a limo? Pick me up in ten."

In those ten minutes, Chuck rang every bar in the Upper East Side he could think of, enquiring after a blonde in impossibly tall heels who'd had more than her fair share of liquor. When the bar staff laughed at him over the din, he started throwing around the name Bart Bass, revulsion crawling up his spine, and threatened to go to the police with the information that they were serving alcohol to fifteen year olds.

By the time Blair slid in next to him ("You're not even going to open the door for me?" "Who'd you think I am? Nate?"), Chuck had a list of five bars Serena had been spotted in. Four out of the five administered warnings about the state of the girl in question. Chuck crossed the other bar off his list.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it's been so long! I've had exams, and then I spent about three weeks solidly watching Pretty Little Liars (don't worry; Gossip Girl still reigns supreme). I'm quite excited about the next chapter though, so the wait shouldn't be too long. Thanks to everyone who has subscribed/favourited/reviewed so far! xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you going to tell me how you managed to get this list?" Blair asked suspiciously, squinting at the slightly crumpled piece of paper she held between her thumb and forefinger.

Beside her, Chuck clasped his hands behind his head, smirking. "I'll just let you puzzle it out for a bit longer."

Blair flicked her wrist dismissively and flung the paper in his direction as she did so. Knowing Chuck, he had vile connections all over New York with people who were more than happy to give him information on sleazy details, which now apparently included Serena. "Fine. My imagination works well enough, anyway."

Chuck leaned forward to rattle off instructions to the driver and passed the scrap piece of paper forward. The driver – Blair was becoming quite familiar with the back of Arthur's head and the dark hair situated there – nodded when he had a chance to glance over the list at the next stop sign. She'd never heard of any of the bars before, though she supposed Arthur must have done if he spent his days driving Chuck around.

Sinking into the plush leather seat, Chuck focused on Blair, angling his body towards hers. Almost subconsciously, her own knees swivelled towards him. "You called me instead of Nate." It was a simple statement, she knew, but the weight behind it wasn't simple at all.

Eyebrows furrowed, she couldn't stop herself from making a sarcastic remark. Replying to him in any other way felt inappropriate. "You're a genius, Bass. What about it?"

"Did you not call Nate because of Serena?"

Straightforward, straight to the point, straight in her heart. She considered playing dumb, but she had never been proficient in that department, so she rested the side of her forehead against the cool window. Traffic lined her vision. "Partly," she admitted. She opened her mouth to continue before deciding to hide it with a yawn. Better to leave it there.

Chuck didn't miss a beat. "You may as well tell me the story, we could be stuck here for a while," he said, apparently unperturbed by her actions. He tapped the window to emphasise his point.

Resigned, she sighed. "You remember last Thanksgiving?"

"Company dinner. And the one before that, and so on."

Blair could imagine a younger Chuck sat around a long table next to his father, surrounded by faceless people he didn't know. The thought made her unfathomably sad. She shook her head to clear the thought. "That was the last time Serena got really drunk. It wasn't pretty."

"So that's why you're worried about her?" Chuck interjected.

"That and the fact that Georgina's evil personified," she explained without having to think about it. "Anyway, I managed to get her back to my apartment without my mother seeing and called Nate for help. He was amazing with her… sobered her right up. They even had a water fight in my bathroom."

From the corner of her eye, Blair could see Chuck's confused expression. He didn't wear confusion very well; he suited absolute confidence. "Shouldn't you have been more bothered about the soaking bathroom and relieved that Serena hadn't emptied her guts?"

She tucked her hair behind her ear. Of course he wouldn't understand. She almost stopped there and changed the subject but that confused look on his face spurred her forward (and the fact that she knew he wouldn't let it go). "I just remember being stood in the corner of the bathroom as the both of them collapsed in laughter and it was like I wasn't even there."

There was a pause in which the vehicle smoothly moved forwards a few metres. Chuck seemed to be debating his next words. "That's just Nate, though," he said finally. "He'll laugh with anyone. It doesn't mean there's anything untoward going on."

Blair was glad when the traffic thinned outside her window. "I know," she claimed. "Is it so terrible that I wanted to avoid the situation?" She wasn't sure if the question was aimed at him or herself.

Before Chuck could answer, or Blair could ponder her thoughts further, they pulled up outside a classy looking bar with blacked-out windows and blue lights shining down on the sidewalk.

"We won't be long," Chuck told the driver before pushing open his door. Blair did the same, breathing in the familiar scent of the air. New York always smelt the same to Blair; smoky from the immeasurable number of car exhausts and pedestrian's cigarettes but there was always an undertone of rain even if the city was under a dry spell. Both clean and unclean at the same time; a brilliant mix of good and bad. It smelt like home, even in streets she'd never been to before.

She breezed past Chuck, her shadow joining his on the sidewalk for a moment, casting one long line of black in the pool of blue light. It wasn't until she had one hand pressed on the navy-pained door that she let her worry for Serena creep in. What if they found her in a terrible state? What if they didn't find her at all?

Chuck was right behind her now, waiting for her to enter the bar. Instead of envying the calm exterior he always seemed to wear, she tried to emulate it as she stepped into the bar.

Upon entering, she wasn't sure what she had expected. Drunken youths falling all over each-other and hollering across the room, perhaps. She was greeted with the opposite: formidably high ceilings and plush leather seats occupied by quietly chattering women that reminded Blair of Serena's mother.

"She's not here," Blair assured Chuck. The drunk Serena she knew wouldn't be allowed to place one foot in here.

He was scanning the room and apparently came to the same conclusion as he nodded. "She was, though. They must have thrown her out, if she was as drunk as I'm imagining."

Anxiety plagued Blair. She tried to imagine Serena draped over the polished marble bar, but couldn't. It was as if the Serena she knew and the Serena Georgina knew were two completely different people. Desperately she hoped the best friend she knew was the true Serena.

Chuck's hand closed around Blair's elbow. She raised her eyebrows at him and he inclined his head to the security guard who was making a beeline for them. "Let's go."

She let him steer her outside, but brushed him off to climb into the car. As soon as they were seated, the vehicle began to move. Blair could feel his eyes on her. "What?" she snapped, embarrassed that he'd had to practically guide her out of the bar.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, unaffected by her temper, which disappeared with his question.

He was just asking about Serena, she assumed, but there was something comforting about lounging in the limo that made her eager to divulge more. "Honestly, I'm worried about Serena, but focusing on something makes me feel fine - normal."

"And before that?"

"I haven't even wanted to purge since before my mother's opening." It was the first time she'd said the word 'purge' to describe what her condition made her do and as she did it felt as if a weight was lifted off her shoulders.

She had Chuck's undivided attention as he toyed with a smile. "Does talking about it help?" he inquired, drumming on his thigh with his fingers. "I don't want to proclaim myself your knight in shining armour or anything, just let me know how close I am until I can add Prince Charming to my list of successes."

Despite the heat rising in her cheeks, she laughed. She had previously thought she could never open up to anyone about her greatest weakness - her fatal flaw - but it was strangely easy to lay herself bare in front of him. Perhaps it was because everyone knew Chuck Bass had his own issues, or maybe it was because he coaxed the truth out of her alongside a laugh. "I think so."

Chuck bowed his head dramatically, his movement restricted by his seatbelt. "It's been a pleasure to be of service."

She smiled as she rolled her eyes. Their tones were joking, the atmosphere light, which made her wonder if he realised that he had actually helped her extremely. Opening her mouth to tell him so, she caught a glimpse of his expression as he raised his head. He looked crestfallen in the second he thought his face was hidden from view.

The car rolled to a stop. She closed her mouth.

Refusing to ponder on the inner workings of Chuck's mind, Blair made her way from the vehicle to the bar, cringing as soon as the door swung open. Bass thumped in her ears, the vibrations tingling her toes. Beyond the darkness, there were two sources of light. The dance floor, which was bathed in flashing red, blue and yellow lights, and the bar.

Chuck touched her elbow. When she turned, he was mouthing something to her.

"What?" she shouted, struggling to hear.

He leaned closer, closer, closer until his lips were nearly brushing her ear. His hair smelt like citrus. Was it his hair gel or his shampoo?

"You try the bar, I'll try the dance floor."

Pulling away from him, she nodded. Trust Chuck to want to scope out the area densely populated by women wearing little clothing.

He was at least a head shorter than most of the dancing bodies, but his retreating figure navigated the crowd skilfully.

Blair didn't want to find Serena in a place like this; she didn't want to accept the fact that her best friend may not be who she always thought she was. At the same time, she was apprehensive about what would happen if they didn't find her here. How many bars would they have to trawl through before they stumbled across her, and in what state?

Over by the bar, the music didn't rattle Blair's teeth, and the crisp white light relaxed her shoulders. She scanned the line of people seated at the bar. No Serena, but there were a few free spaces she could edge into. She hoisted herself up onto a barstool between two women checking their phones, careful not to touch too much of the sticky surface in front of her.

A few disbelieving glances were sent in her direction, and the women either side of her both raised their eyebrows in a universal show of disapproval. She should have at least put on heels, she thought enviously as she stared at the blonde on her right's Louboutins. She felt like a child in this foreign environment.

"I hope you realise I'm not serving you, sweetheart."

Blair looked up to see a middle-aged bartender staring down at her. He was bald, but attractive enough (for an old guy) and his clothes looked well-made. He had an air of professionalism which made her doubt he'd serve Serena, but there were other employees working the bar.

She gave him her best smile. "Of course not." She added a giggle for good measure. "I'm just looking for my friend.

The barman began cleaning the bar in front of her with a tatty cloth. "I'm going to need a bit more than that."

"She's fifteen, blonde and wearing a tight blue dress. She could pass for eighteen maybe, but definitely not twenty-one," she shouted over the din. "If you're not one for serving underage girls, as you've proved, then you will have noticed her."

His hand stilled, as he scowled. "Do you have anything to do with the threatening phone call?"

Eyebrows knitted, Blair wondered if she'd heard him right. He must have sensed her confusion, because he continued wiping the bar, seemingly placated, but the scowl half-remained. "Some kid called before," he explained, leaning over the bar. "Was looking for a girl who matched that description. When I said I couldn't give out that sort of information, he threatened to make it known that we serve teenagers."

Blair paused, glad his focus was on the bar and not her. She glanced towards the source of the music, but didn't see Chuck. Lying, deceiving, _brilliant_ Chuck. Then, she plastered a horrified look on her face. "Oh no!" she exclaimed, causing the bartender and a few clubbers around her to look up. She leaned in as if she was about to share a secret. "My friend is being stalked by her ex-boyfriend and I really need to find her before he does!"

The barman stored his rag under the bar and leaned one elbow on the surface. "I once had a crazy ex-girlfriend," he lamented. "She used to follow me around everywhere."

She stopped the grin that tried to surface. "That's what it's like with my friend. Would you happen to know where she went?"

"When I didn't serve them, the girl your friend was with said something about the burlesque club. They left soon after." He seemed genuinely pleased to be helping Blair's situation.

Doing her best to look relieved, Blair grinned. "Thank you so much!"

"No problem," he replied, returning her smile. "Just tell your friend to stay out of bars."

She assured him, truthfully, that she would before she hopped off the stool.

Chuck was waiting by the exit. He shook his head when he saw her and pulled the door open. She walked through before he had the chance to.

She faced him with a smug grin. "Thanks."

"Any luck?" he asked as he fell into step behind her.

She rolled her eyes. "The answer was almost no."

"So that's a yes."

"It almost wasn't because I was accused of making a threatening phone call." She stopped just before they reached the limo, blocking the door so he was forced to look in her direction. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

She expected an excuse or at least a hesitation, but his reply was immediate. "How else were you expecting to find her?"

Shame filled her. She had thought the list was a product of dirty connections which she turned her nose up at. Dirty tactics, however, she respected. She was briefly lost for words, and didn't object when Chuck reached around her and opened the door, nor when he gestured for her to slide in first.

"That's really amazing," she said when she'd settled in her seat. "What you did to help find her."

He shrugged, brushing off her praise. "Serena's a friend."

She doubted Serena was the main reason he'd made the calls - the two barely spoke. Chuck would do a lot of things, but he wouldn't threaten anyone without a legitimate reason. Her gut instinct was to not push the subject any further. He hadn't told her about the phone calls in the first place, and it was probably better if she pretended like she'd never learnt about them.

"They were going to a burlesque club, apparently."

Chuck's eyes brightened in the darkness of the limo. "I know just the place."

* * *

The club looked like a shack from the outside. The paint on the red door was peeling, and the lettering which proclaimed the name "Victrola" was shoddily stuck to the inside of the window. The card printed with the letter "V" was hanging off at an angle. Blair really didn't want to go inside. It looked like the kind of place women went when they had no other options and where men could pleasure themselves in dark corners.

"This is our best bet," Chuck reminded her as he slipped through the door.

She took a deep breath and followed him inside.

As soon as the musky scent hit her nose, Blair knew her first judgements had been wrong. The scent itself was enticing; Blair was drawn forward by a force other than Chuck's footsteps. Burgundy velvet booths half-full with customers were clustered around a stage, where the dancers moved to the soft beat, framed by cream drapes hanging from the ceiling. The whole thing looked heavenly.

Although she'd never admit it, Blair had always found something beautiful about burlesque. The music, the style, the movement… she itched to try it herself. But, no. She was Blair Waldorf, and she didn't do anything that could be deemed vulgar.

A hand landed on her right shoulder. Blair's first thought was Chuck – she'd pulled in front of him as they began circling the room in an unspoken agreement to look for Serena – but then she heard Chuck's sharp voice from her left. "Get off her."

Blair spun around, knocking the heavy weight off her shoulder. As it turned out, the hand belonged to a burly man who was at least ten years her senior. "Alright, babe?" he slurred. The stench of his body odour forced its way into Blair's nose, nearly making her cough. Maybe she was right about the lecherous men.

Chuck stepped up to Blair's side, placing his hand on the small of her back. A jolt of electricity shot through her spine. She nearly jumped away from the pressure, but then she saw how the creep's eyes followed the movement.

"She yours, man?" he asked, already backing away.

Her mouth dropped open. _I don't belong to anyone,_ she wanted to say, but Chuck got there first.

"She's not _mine_ ," Chuck spat. "She's her own person, and she doesn't want you touching her."

Blair steeled herself, drawing strength from somewhere despite the way the letch towered over her. "Goodbye."

The drunken man mumbled something under his breath. Instead of leaving, he pushed past Chuck and Blair, moving further into the room.

"I'll make sure he gets thrown out," Chuck assured her. "I'm quite friendly with the bar staff here."

Blair rolled her eyes at his wink. "No need," she interjected quickly, ignoring the incredulous look he shot her way. She lowered her voice. "If that freak's interested in fifteen year old girls, I wonder where he's going now…"

"You, Waldorf, are a genius."

Chuck removed his hand from Blair's back. She'd forgotten it was even there, but now she felt the absence of heat. No, she didn't. She merely felt a friend remove a protective hand from her body. Hands were warm, and when contact was severed it was noticeable. That was it.

When the man they were following disappeared behind a door marked 'TOILET', Blair was ready to give up. Chuck led her further, probably wanting to stay around the burlesque show for longer.

They rounded a corner into a more secluded area where the stage was hidden from view, and the music was barely audible. A young blonde girl was draped over the seats in the single booth, her heeled feet hanging over the lap of an unidentified male. The girl, of course, was Serena van der Woodsen.

Blair darted forward. Thankfully, there was only one man in the booth, so Blair fit easily by Serena's head. Blair gathered Serena's head into her lap. The blonde's makeup was smudged, her hair tangled, her eyes closed.

Blair stroked her friend's hair. "Serena?" she whispered. Serena cracked open one eyelid and groaned.

As she waited for some sense to return, Blair lifted her head to find Chuck. He was speaking with the twenty-something at the other side of the booth. From what Blair could tell, Georgina had disappeared with one of his friends, and Serena had lain down not long after. Chuck lifted Serena's feet, and took the older male's place. He disappeared pretty quickly.

"Blair?" croaked Serena. Her voice was raw.

Blair and Chuck both focused on Serena. She blinked quickly a few times before her eyes could remain open. Struggling to sit up, she mumbled, "Whereami?"

"Victrola," supplied Chuck as Blair helped Serena position herself upright. Her feet fell off Chuck's lap and landed loudly on the floor. One of her shoes skimmed along the floor, stopping on the wooden flooring a metre away from the table.

"The burlesque place," Blair clarified upon seeing Serena's confused expression, though she could've been confused about anything in her current state.

Serena lifted up one of her hands and placed it over her mouth. Blair whipped her head to meet Chuck's eye. "She's going to be sick."

Scooting out of the booth, Chuck helped Blair lift Serena up, and together, they managed to deliver her to the door of the ladies' room before she had the chance to be sick. Blair escorted her into the bathroom.

As Blair held Serena's hair back and listened to the sound of the contents of her best friend's stomach drop into the toilet bowl, she was overwhelmed by sadness. Would Serena do this for her, if Blair opened up about her secret? No, she decided. It hadn't been Serena's decision to be sick (although she must have drank an obscene amount of alcohol), yet it was always Blair's choice to end up in this position. It was harsh to think this, Blair knew, but Serena looked so pathetic clutching the edges of the toilet, so weak. Blair never wanted to let herself look like that again.

Getting Serena into the limo was another challenge altogether. Chuck and Blair each lifted one of her arms over their shoulders, and Chuck held her shoes. They moved slowly towards the exit like a strange six-legged creature, keeping to the back wall of the club, avoiding the other customers and the stage. Every other step, Serena stumbled – even without her high heels providing an obstruction.

Finally, they all collapsed into the limo, which started moving immediately after Chuck shut the door behind them. Serena lay down again, but didn't close her eyes. "Georgina left."

Blair sighed, looking down at Serena, who'd returned her head to Blair's lap. "We know, that guy told us. Did you do anything with him?"

Serena ignored the question. "She left 'cause she thinks I…" She hiccoughed. "That I prefer Blair over her."

"I'm Blair," Blair told her quietly.

Serena was obviously trying, and failing, to focus her eyes on Blair. Instead, her eyes drifted to just above Blair's face. "I know, I love you B."

Chuck laughed, but Blair ignored him. She smiled softly and linked her fingers with Serena's. "Always here for you, S."

For the rest of the journey, Serena stayed like that, occasionally spouting some nonsense, to which Blair and Chuck replied, trying to keep her awake. She slowly sobered up. Blair felt more relaxed than she had in weeks.

By the time they were stood in the foyer of Blair's apartment, Serena was able to walk up the stairs unaided.

"It's a miracle," commented Chuck as they watched her stumble slightly and grasp the railing.

Blair sighed and turned to Chuck. "Look, I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "This?"

She gestured at herself and up the stairs. "Tonight with Serena, but not just that… everything."

Chuck reached his hand out. For a second, Blair thought he was going to place his hand on her arm, but he merely ruffled his own hair. "Don't worry about it, honestly."

"But –"

Taking a deep breath, Chuck pressed his eyes closed. When he opened them, he seemed resolved. "Maybe the scantily clad ladies have got to my head, but I like being burdened with your problems."

A laugh escaped Blair, cutting through the silence. She stepped forwards and watched Chuck tense. Instead of backing away, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. "Thank you."

His arms rose hesitantly and encircled her waist. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back and laughed breathily as he stared at her. "So I guess I've officially won the Prince Charming title?"

Blair shook her head and looked at him. A half-smirk rested on his lips, his eyebrows drawn up. This was the Chuck she liked best: a veneer of confidence with the promise of something more beneath. Acting purely on instinct, she leaned towards him and pressed her lips to his for the briefest of moments before she turned and ran upstairs.

As she settled in bed beside her best friend, Blair whispered, "I just kissed Chuck Bass."

Serena was sleeping; her breathing sounded deep and heavy. Blair took a deep breath of her own and closed her eyes. "It was only a peck." She rolled onto her side and pulled the blanket up under her chin. "And I love Nate."

* * *

 **A/N: The next chapter is the last! I'm thinking of a short epilogue afterwards, and maybe something from Serena's point of view. What do you guys think? Let me know! xoxo**


	5. Chapter 5

No expense had been spared on decorating the ballroom. Every piece of furniture was draped in white silk, from the chairs and tables to the stage and the balcony above it. Chuck had been in this room numerous times before – it was hugely popular in the Upper East Side to hold every variation of social gatherings, especially weddings such as this one – but he'd never seen the chandeliers glow so brightly. Even so, he could sense the room darken when his father strolled in. The change was subtle, but everyone who noticed Bart Bass' arrival stood with their backs straighter and angled themselves towards him. They all wanted approval.

Chuck couldn't deny, at least to himself, that he wanted the same thing. He trailed behind his father, always one second too slow to match the taller man's long strides.

As usual, Bart had chosen a petite model to be his date: a redhead with a waist smaller than Chuck's hand. She would have been pretty if it wasn't for the vacant look in her eyes as she smiled at the crowd forming around the show-couple. Why didn't anyone else notice the way her eyes flicked to people several moments after they addressed her? Chuck thought back to the warning he had received to not to be an embarrassment and wondered how his father could hold his head high when he had to pay a woman closer to his son's age than his own to hang off his arm.

Chuck disappeared into the crowd as soon as he could. It wasn't hard; his father had picked him out a classic monochrome tuxedo just like every other man in the building was wearing. Chuck hated the normality of it, but he tried to ignore the revulsion he felt whenever he caught a glimpse of his reflection – he reminded himself too much of his father.

Once he had a drink in each hand and a third making its way down his throat, Chuck's heart stopped racing. He meandered through the throngs of revellers until he reached the edge of the dancefloor, ready to search for Blair and Nate. The latter was easy enough to find. Serena's diamond necklace caught the light perfectly as she spun around in Nate's arms. Serena now was a far cry from the Serena him and Blair had found half-collapsed in a burlesque club a few nights before. Then, her blue dress was hitched around her thighs, stained with spilt alcohol. The gold dress she was currently wearing was pristine and almost blended into her long hair. When Chuck looked at Nate, he barely recognised the smiling boy as his best friend. It had become harder to look at Nate in the past few weeks. Chuck had given up trying to kid himself that he didn't harbour feelings for Blair, and, even though she was Nate's girlfriend, he couldn't help but harbour the hope that she would realise she felt the same about him.

As Chuck tore his eyes away from the golden couple, he realised Blair would be having the difficulties doing the same thing. He was sure she'd be watching every single moment of her best friend stealing a dance from her Prince Charming, making sure Nate's hands didn't wander any lower than Serena's waist. Sure enough, a quick scan of the edges of the ballroom revealed Blair leaning against the wall, her narrowed dark eyes focused on the dancefloor.

Chuck had to dodge numerous nosey socialites as he made his way over to Blair. His father's words repeated in the back of his mind, so he forced himself to make quick conversation with whoever approached him, lest his father catch him being rude. Countless polite smiles later and Blair was finally in his sight again; he let himself drink her in. If Serena looked like an angel in her golden attire, Blair looked like the devil. She wore a scarlet silk dress that skimmed her mid-thigh with a slightly plunging V-shaped neckline. Her dark hair was braided in a crown around her head. Her devilish look seemed to fit in with how she made him feel and the shame he felt for those feelings being aimed towards his best friend's girlfriend – and the shame he felt at trying not to care about that small fact.

If Nate hadn't taken one look at that dress and wanted to rip it right off of her body, he did not deserve to call Blair his.

Her slim shoulders touched the white wall as her fingers furled and unfurled repeatedly. When everyone else saw a bored young debutante swathed in silk, he saw a vulnerable girl wrecked with anxiety who kept herself together until nobody could see her fall apart. He wanted to be there to pick up the pieces.

Throwing on a confident smile, Chuck sidled up to her. "Shouldn't that be you up there, Waldorf?"

She turned to meet his gaze. Up close, she looked paler than she had across the room. "They're just having one dance."

Although he could see in her eyes that she didn't believe her own words, she spoke them with confidence. As if, with time, she could force herself to accept them. A month ago, he would've ignored the comment completely and then scoffed behind her back. A week ago, he would've coaxed her into admitting her true feelings. But the way she'd been staring after Nate, so forlornly, had shifted something inside of him. She wouldn't be able to give him any part of herself if she felt this way about Nate, he realised – he'd been a fool to think otherwise.

"Right," he said.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Right?" she echoed. He couldn't keep his eyes off her lips as she spoke. Those lips had brushed his mere days ago.

He sighed. "What do you want me to say?"

"Something helpful would be nice."

The girl really knew how to get under his skin. He drew a breath, prepared to tell her how beautiful she looked, damn the fact she would never look at him the way he wanted her to, but all of a sudden she straightened up, no longer leaning on the wall. Her lips rose into a pleasant smile and she held out her hand to the older woman that stood in front of her. Chuck turned to face Lindsay Sheppard – nee Hall – as she grasped Blair's hand and shook it.

"I'm so glad you could make it," gushed Lindsay, smoothing down the material of her wedding dress. In one of her rambles, Blair had told Chuck, Nate and Serena that she'd designed her own dress. Blair held the woman in high regard as one of her favourite fashion designers. "I've heard such wonderful things about you from your mother."

Blair smiled, one of the only genuine smiles he'd ever seen from her. "You have?"

"Of course. She speaks so very highly of you, and of your gorgeous boyfriend." Lindsay looked over at Chuck. "Is this him?"

Shocked, Blair laughed. Chuck tried not to let the laugh sting, but it did anyway. "No, this is Chuck Bass. You must know his father?"

Lindsay made a disapproving noise. "Unfortunately, yes. Bart's tried to buy my business at a record low price more than once." She cleared her throat. "No offence, Chuck."

Chuck shrugged, his way of saying 'none taken'.

Drawing the attention back to herself, Blair pointed to the dancefloor. "That's Nate over there."

"The one dancing with the leggy blonde?"

Chuck fought the urge to grab one of the girls who had simpered over him on the way in and disappear as Blair's smile fell off her face. "That's my best friend Serena," she explained.

Conspiratorially, Lindsay leaned forwards and held Blair by the shoulders. She spoke rather quietly, but Chuck had gravitated so close to Blair that he heard every word. "Those are the ones you have to watch out for, sweetheart. My first marriage didn't work out because my so-called best friend got too close to my husband. I'd keep a close eye on that one if I were you." The older woman kissed Blair on the cheek before spinning back into the crowd, unaware of what she'd just done. Blair dropped back against the wall as if she couldn't hold herself up any longer.

Chuck immediately took Lindsay's place, inches away from Blair, whose breathing had quickened considerably in the last few moments. "Blair," he warned. "Do not let that get to you."

Her eyes darted around the room and she seemed to properly take in their location. There were no escape routes nearby, Chuck knew, so she'd be forced to either calm herself down, or show weakness. She chose the former, as he knew she would. Her breathing evened out as quickly as it had become ragged. As she finished her scan of the room, she asked in a low voice, "Where are they?"

Stepping away from her, Chuck surveyed the dancefloor to his left. True to her word, Nate and Serena were nowhere to be seen. He wasn't sure why his next words left his mouth, all he knew was that he couldn't bear to hear another hitch in Blair's breath. "I'll bet my life that Nate's seen some important businessman and has gone off to big himself up. Serena's probably bored senseless."

Blair murmured a noise of agreement, eyes still scanning the hall. She pushed herself off the wall.

Chuck touched the tender skin of Blair's wrist. She looked up at him. "I'll go and look for them in the bar. You circle the ballroom."

"Thank you," Blair whispered before she turned away from him.

He watched her walk away from him, expertly navigating the room in her black Louboutin's.

* * *

Nate and Serena were nowhere to be seen in the busy main bar, but his father was, stood in a group of similar aged men and their escorts – all who looked as dead in the eyes as the redhead who laughed complacently every time Bart spoke.

Bart made eye contact with Chuck as soon as he walked in the bar – no doubt Bart was eyeing the door to size up anybody who walked in to see if they would be of any use to him. Apparently, Chuck was not. As soon as Chuck's eyes met his fathers, Bart's gaze slid past him as if he wasn't even there. Chuck stood there for one more heartbeat as he confirmed Nate and Serena were not milling around the bar before he backed out of the door, nearly bashing into three people as he made his way out into the corridor.

A few minutes later, he found himself on a secluded balcony after he'd found the closest staircase and climbed in a daze, craving some quiet. He rested his forearms on the mahogany railing, overlooking a second bar, one that was only used for much bigger events. He took a few deep breaths, reminding himself that he didn't – couldn't – care what his father thought about him.

More importantly, he couldn't care about Blair. She had Nate, and Nate was lucky. Even though Nate sometimes looked at Serena, he was loyal to Blair. He always had been, and Chuck had no reason to believe he wouldn't always be.

That was, until a door opened to the bar beneath him, and an angel and a Prince Charming stumbled into the room beneath him, their arms around each-other and their lips connected in a kiss.

* * *

Chuck found Blair wandering around the ballroom. He hadn't said anything as he'd grabbed her by the hand and led her into the garden. It had started to go dark, although the air was still quite warm. Trees were strung with fairy lights. Made reckless by what he had witnessed barely five minutes ago, Chuck ignored Blair's questions and complaints as he pulled her to a quiet corner.

Finally, he whirled on her, releasing her from his grip. For once in her life, she was quiet, perhaps struck by the determined look on his face, as if she was apprehensive of his next words. So was he – he was unsure of what exactly his next words would be until they came tumbling out of his mouth. They didn't surprise him, though, as he'd been thinking them for weeks. "I'm not letting you play me any longer. You have to choose: Nate or me."

Suddenly, he felt stupid. Deflated. He didn't know why he'd asked. As he looked at her, flushed from the fast pace he'd made her keep up with, he realised he could read Blair like a book, he knew her feelings better than he knew his own, he saw that beneath her primped exterior her mind worked the same way as his. Even though he knew the outcome from the moment he'd spoken, when she looked away from him and murmured the name of his best friend, he was still hurt. One word, four letters, the power of a knife piercing his heart.

He felt the urge to tell her everything he'd seen, but he knew it would end one of two ways. Either she'd look at him in disbelief and accuse him of making things up in a fit of jealousy (which, he had to admit to himself, was something he'd do), or she'd believe him straight away and the pain he'd inflict on her would be unbearable. Both situations would be unbearable. He couldn't be the one to tell her, and he had to stop looking at her flushed cheeks, or else everything would come spilling out.

He turned his back on her then and walked back towards the party, leaving her stood in the dirt. He was in disbelief at what he'd just done. Why had he thought it was a good idea to confess his feelings to her? He was so used to laying himself bare in front of her, he hadn't even thought twice. For a moment, as their eyes had locked, he thought she was going to choose him. Against every rational thought he'd ever had, he thought she was going to choose him over her doting boyfriend. He couldn't even tell her he wasn't her doting boyfriend anymore. He was a cheating boyfriend who had let Blair's worst nightmare come true on a hotel bar.

If she wanted to continue living a fantasy life, Chuck would let her. There was no place for Charles Bartholomew Bass in the world she had created for herself through wishful thinking and decorative headbands.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay so it's been over a year, I think. Strange how life gets in the way, but here's the last chapter! If there's anyone reading this who read the first four chapters a year ago, thank you!**


	6. Epilogue

**TWO DAYS LATER**

"She's gone, Chuck, Serena's gone. I thought I wanted her out of the way, but now I've lost the both of you and… please call me back."

 **A WEEK LATER**

"If you're just going to pretend like I don't exist, then fine. I never want to see you again."

 **THREE WEEKS LATER**

"Hi, Chuck. It's me, again. Blair. I just wanted to say I'm sorry for everything, and, um, thanks. You really helped me through a difficult place and I've realised you really shouldn't have… not that I didn't appreciate it. I did – I do. What I meant to say is that I've got help, professional help, and I wouldn't have had the courage without you. So I'm getting better. Thanks – bye."

 **TWO MONTHS LATER**

"I know you said the other week that we shouldn't talk at all, but I miss you. Call me back?"

"If you want an apology before you call back, I am genuinely sorry for how I treated you. I thought it was obvious with all the voicemails and the way I keep trying to trap you when we're out with Nate. I want to know you're okay."

 **SIX MONTHS LATER**

"You can't just ignore me every time we see each-other, Bass. Your best friend is my boyfriend! Can't you be happy for me? Us? I mean, er, me and Nate, us. Not you and me, us. Not that we were ever an us… anyway… For heaven's sake, Chuck, why do you have to be such a child about everything?"

"I forgot to say in my last message that I think I've overcome my bulimia. Wow, it sounds strange to say it out loud. It's still hard, but I'm getting there. And I have you to thank for that. I'm not sure if you even care, but I wanted you to know."

 **EIGHT MONTHS LATER**

"Look, I don't want to corner you in Nate's dining room again, but I'm worried about you. Nate is too. You're drinking too much, smoking too much… I haven't been this worried about someone since Serena, and look how well that worked out. Just don't disappear, please. Look after yourself, Chuck, bye."

 **TWELVE MONTHS LATER**

"I can't believe she's back, Chuck, I really can't. Nate and I… we've been happy. I saw how he looked at her today and I don't think I can go through that again. I was in a really bad place last year. I hope you're not in a bad place right now, Chuck. I haven't seen you in a while, and I know we've barely spoken in a year and you never even bothered to call me back – so rude by the way. But I could use someone to talk to."

"Blair, it's Chuck. You probably don't even recognise my voice anymore, but you deserve an explanation. I was bitter for what happened last year but now I realise it was nothing and I can talk to you without feeling like I'm betraying Nate. If you still want to talk, I'll be at Victrola all day tomorrow. Just because I want to buy the place, obviously. You don't have to get up on stage, but if you wanted to apologise again, that would be the way to do it."

* * *

When she got up on that stage at Victrola, Chuck could've sworn his heart missed a beat. This was the Blair he knew – the dark side of her that complimented his own. The side she only ever seemed to let him see. She could show that good exterior to everyone else, but he saw past that to the darkness inside. In the past year, she had never reminded him so much of how she had looked at the Sheppard wedding – never reminded him so much of why he started to fall for her in the first place. And this time, he wouldn't let her go.

* * *

As his lips roamed over her entire body, she knew this was where she belonged. She knew it would be a messy journey – and she wasn't just thinking about this limo ride – but they'd end up together. After all, this boy had once made her whole. He had once just been her escape, but this time, he'd be her everything.


End file.
